Little Mushroom

I am a mushroom
With the colour of my skin
Standing here on the ground
Different from the other leaves
Yet invisible

I am a mushroom
More pale than ever
But still standing on the ground
Rough on the edges
Nobody notices me

I am a mushroom
With the uncertainty on my behalf
Stil standing on the ground
Watching the falling leaves
Wishing to be one of the leaves

I am a mushroom
Shrouded in falsehood and lies
I stand frozen to the spot unable to cry out
Waiting for my time
Is it my time yet, little birdie?

I am a mushroom
This fragile little disposition
Days gone by and still wishing for the same thing
Somebody save me from this empty jungle
Trying reaching up to the sky

I am a mushroom
Look at the dying sun hanging on cloudy day
Exhaust the little moment
Soon it dies and be it gash or gold
It will not come again in this identical disguise

I am a mushroom
It is so easy to take for granted the growth on grass
The sheen of limestone
The way melody in a symphony rises and falls
It is so easy to exist instead of living

I am a mushroom
The sound I hear is a murmur compared to the tolling of immortality
I stares at the horizon
Look at the view, little mushroom
Look at the view

I am a mushroom
Listen to my silent scream
Can you even hear me?
I am waiting
Is it my time yet, little birdie?

-hn